


Animal Hole: Maasa's Story

by Nothing (Karinpon)



Series: The Cocksucking Male Maid Saga [5]
Category: Dollis Marry, Lupo Label, Vampire Rose - Fandom, 弥叉 | Missa
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Blood Drinking, Boys in Skirts, Brothels, Come Drinking, Come Eating, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Dogs, Double Penetration, Ejaculate, Emetophilia, Gay Sex, Homosexuality, Horses, Latex, M/M, Maids, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Musicians, Oral, Oral Sex, Other, Parasite - Freeform, Parasites, Penises, Pigs, Prostitution, Shapeshifting, Skirts, Snakes, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Transvestite, Vampires, Visual Kei, Vomiting, Yaoi, Zoophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karinpon/pseuds/Nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maasa, a former Visual Kei bandman, and a lover of all kinds of animal penises, gets the employment opportunity of a lifetime and is eager to start work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sexsuna (Junna)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sexsuna+%28Junna%29), [zovihaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zovihaki/gifts).



The many different smells of shit blown about by the summer’s midday wind had made him erect on arrival. Maasa’s third Sunday on the farm had started just like the last two: he’d made sure all the animals had food and water, feeling fortunate the place was not very big, and he’d made these circuits with his cock lifting the front pleats of his latex skirt all the while. The Christian family who ran the farm actually paid him all right for what he had to do—but what he always went on to do, he’d do for free.  
  
It was time to go back to the horse. The only horse on the farm, its shimmering black coat could not belie its old age, but its eager and enormous erection could. He had till six in the evening to have his fun, clean up, and leave, enabling him to spend much more time here than he’d need to. He approached and stretched out his arm, running his fingers through the horse’s mane. “How’s the big guy today?” he said, trying to be soothing—it was important to keep it calm in spite of its sexual excitement; Maasa didn’t want a hoof caving in his skull. Horses were dangerous animals, a few hundred times stronger than humans: you didn’t want one fucking you, either, no matter how great its cock would feel going in.  
  
All Maasa wanted was a mouthful of horse semen, and to that end he intended to milk the cock as the most aroused dairy farmer might an udder. And he’d look the part of the cutest milk maid doing it, though none would be there to see. His flat-ironed brown hair spilled over his chest but for the fringe which was cut just so he could see, and he wore a black-and-white latex maid uniform he’d picked up working a part-time job that satisfied another of his lusts, and was quite versatile; it included a pair each of gloves, stockings with garters, and high-heeled ankle boots.  
  
He took a rake he’d left leaning near the entrance of the lonely stable and used it to clear the area of horse shit—he liked the smell, but didn’t want to get any on his latex. The horse snorted expectantly, and when he had finished and put the tool away, he got on his knees at the animal’s side. He petted its flank with one hand, and reached under with the other. “Let’s see what you have for me.”  
  
A second later he gripped the smooth, hot organ. It wasn’t quite fully engorged yet, but close; his hand could hardly close around it. Stroking it gently near the base, he bent forward and caught the flopping end with his tongue, drawing it into his lips. A quick smooch, and it was an iron rod. He switched hands to hold it by the tip, and pecked along all its sides, slobbering profusely, moving it this way and that. The horse whinnied, stomped its hooves, but remained in place to receive the good treatment; Maasa didn’t feel in _much_ danger of being injured.  
  
He caressed the animal’s huge brown balls, then took hold of its cock by the base and guided it into his mouth once more, this time along his tongue, toward his throat. He sucked, slowly, checking its reaction, careful not to excite it too suddenly or in the wrong way. The risks involved excited Maasa, so that he reached under his skirt and stroked his own hard little cock as he fellated the horse’s.  
  
The semen started to come. Not a very powerful a jet, but the warm bitter slime Maasa had so anticipated filled his mouth so much he had to store a lot in his cheeks, which was something that never happened with human lovers. It was amazing. He began to swallow. Then he heard a sneeze not far behind him.  
  
He nearly choked on the stuff turning to see whomever had the audacity to be silently watching him fluff a horse. Coughing and spitting, he turned his eyes up to a vaguely familiar face beneath a canopy of red-and-black long, straight, layered hair. He jumped out from under the horse onto his butt. “Who are you?!”  
  
The watcher sniffed, swiped a finger between his nose and upper lip. “Sorry, I was going to introduce myself—I didn’t mean to do it this way. I am Iori. You may have heard of my old band, Dollis Marry...” He paused, waiting perhaps for Maasa to show some sign of recognition. Maasa did remember Dollis Marry, and thought he’d heard a song once but wasn’t sure, and definitely didn’t think being a washed up visual kei bandman excused being a peeping tom. “Anyway,” he continued with a sigh, “I know you do part-time work at the Cock-Sucking Male Maids Café. We’re co-workers, but maybe you never met me. I was recently deployed to this area to help fill a certain niche that I think you were made for.”  
  
Maasa stood up. “What do you mean? Have you been following me?”  
  
“Since last week. I thought I totally lucked out—scouting the local farms, you don’t often see such attractive animal-fuckers. A lot of them, sure, but not attractive ones, not bandmen like you. You even work for the same company! You just need your services relocated for maximum profitability.” Iori took a deep breath. “Tell me, Maasa: do you love animal cock?”  
  
“Of course I do—you saw me... but I guess I don’t have to worry about blackmail or anything. Are you offering me a... job?”  
  
Iori reached down toward his crotch, fingers teasing the pleats of the black latex minidress he wore—sleeveless and showing a lot of his smooth, sweaty chest. “A job you’ll love more than anything you already do for money. But before we go and start your first day, I’ve got some steam to blow off. Can I use your arse?”  
  
“You mean you got horny watching me suck off the horse.” Maasa turned and lowered himself back to his knees, then lifted his own latex skirt. “I might as well have you now, as an appetiser.”  
  
“Appetiser? You didn’t even see my cock yet—it could be bigger than a horse’s for all you know!”  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Maasa said. “So are you going to fuck me or stand there feeling inadequate?”  
  
The sudden grip on his hips gave Maasa a start. He felt Iori’s penis slipping between his buttocks without much delay, the tool neither large nor what he would call small; but the fact it proceeded to press for entry without lube would still have been objectionable, had Maasa not been so damned horny himself right then. He stroked his own cock as Iori’s drove itself inconsiderately inside him.  
  
“T-tight,” Iori said. “Are you an anal virgin?”  
  
Far from it. Just yesterday he took three men consecutively, dressed as he now was, at the Cock-Sucking Male Maids Café, but their cocks had been lubricated with Maasa’s saliva first. He pushed with his insides, moving his hips back, trying to help Iori into him; succeeding, with a sting. Iori gripped him more tightly now and fucked, panting every second or third thrust, touching deep in Maasa’s rectum. Letting go of his cock, Maasa whined.  
  
“I’m coming already...”  
  
“Ah—catch it!” Iori said. “I haven’t eaten all day!”  
  
Maasa cupped his hand over the tip of his cock, trying his best. The Café’s boys were paid well enough, and many of them even loved sucking cock to begin with—but all were driven by a parasite living in their bowels, implanted as a sort of contract signature. It was benign as they came, but it made semen feel as though it were a necessity for life, like food. Maasa had one, too, and he wasn’t even sure he needed to eat normal food any more, but he still did, just in case. As Iori went on punching his rectal wall he pressed his fingers tightly together, lest the precious fluid slip through and go to waste.  
  
Iori moaned, and the nearby horse cried and stomped as Maasa felt the penis inside him throbbing violently, releasing Iori’s spend. It wasn’t pulled out till the contractions died down, and the semen seeped out around it over Maasa’s perineum and scrotum and thighs. It had been a meal.  
  
Iori sighed. “You caught it, right?”  
  
Turning to face him, Maasa showed him his fist. “I think I caught most of it. Open your mouth and put your head back, unless you want to lick it off my palm like a dog.”  
  
Iori did as instructed, mouth agape toward the roof, tongue extended in expectation. Raising his fist over the waiting mouth, Maasa tilted it, and the slime poured forth. After two swallows Iori grabbed Maasa’s arm and sucked any remainder out of his fist, which opened to admit a probing tongue. The long, adroit tongue made Maasa shudder. It was kind of like a dog’s.  
  
#  
  
In Iori’s car—or the car Iori drove—they pulled into the parking space of a sizeable single-storey building. The obvious entryway was a glass double-door, above which a white banner was decorated with a colourful artistic depiction of a maid at one end, and the words in red: “ANIMAL-FUCKING MALE MAIDS CAFÉ”. The niche appeared much better furnished than Maasa would have thought—not that this surprised him in these decadent days. And now he would be serving it for money, which was all well given his transferable skills and interests.  
  
“Seems you’re already dressed right,” Iori said and opened his door. “So let’s put you to work before it gets hot. It’s going to be thirty-five degrees today!”  
  
They got out of the car and entered the building. Inside, Maasa was struck by how much it looked like a standard Cock-Sucking Male Maids Café—or some kind of diner, at least in the small receiving room. There were tables against the walls with long seats upholstered in red patent leather or PVC, some of them occupied by men ranging in age from late thirties to perhaps late seventies. They drank from large cups, and ate cakes and pastries, waiting—to have their cocks sucked?  
  
“Iori,” said Maasa.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Where are all the animals? This looks just like a normal... one of those establishments. And what about the staff?”  
  
“The staff...” Iori hesitated. “You’re looking at it. The manager and I do all the work, till today, now that you’re here. Most pretty boys you’ll find are suited to sucking human cocks, but not many would take an animal’s dick, willingly. Our branch only has one other location, in some other rural place. I hear it’s slightly better staffed.”  
  
“And the animals?” Maasa repeated.  
  
“They have their little apartments. Their owners will lead you to them when you’re ready.”  
  
“I am ready.”  
  
“Right.” Iori started toward the tables, and Maasa followed. Stopping at a corpulent man with one third of a cake in front of him—obviously, he had eaten the rest of it—Iori bowed, and Maasa followed suit. He was used to bowing for his customers.  
  
“All right,” the man said, rubbing his hands together. He wore a salaryman’s garments, as well as one’s advanced male-pattern baldness. He looked at Maasa. “I’ve never seen this one before. Porker’ll have him, after I finish my noontide dessert.” Having spoken, he picked up his plate, and bit chunks off the large piece of cake.  
  
“Iori!”  
  
Maasa turned to see a beautiful man with dirty blonde hair, straightened and layered and tied in two teased bunches at the back, with an oblique fringe. He wore a small pink top exposing his midriff between it and a tiny pleated skirt, also pink; both articles were of latex, and possibly the black court shoes he wore over a pair of matching thigh-high opaque stockings. He rushed toward them.  
  
“You brought someone new! I knew you would!”  
  
“You like him?” Iori enquired.  
  
“He’s cuter than I dreamed.” The sluttily attired man took Maasa’s hand and stared into his eyes. “I am Yooh. You may have heard of the visual band I led for a short while: Lupo Label...”  
  
He hadn’t. The flamboyant, fast-talking Yooh didn’t await a response for as long as Iori had. “I manage this establishment, and work hardest to please our customers—Iori wouldn’t deny it—but maybe you’re looking to outperform me. If so, good, but I need something to call you.”  
  
“Something to... oh.” Maasa felt stupid and promptly delivered his name. “I used to play guitar in a band called Misa—you probably haven’t heard of them—but nowadays I do a lot of—”  
  
The salaryman at the table cleared his throat obnoxiously. “I must’ve been done with my dessert minutes ago. Can’t you lovely boys finish the pleasantries after my pig and I have got the stress treatment we came here for?” He started to leave the table, which gave Maasa some time to spend puzzling over his phrasing.  
  
“Of course,” Yooh said, “the customer comes first! Now who are you having today?”  
  
He belched, straightening out his corpulence to tower a few inches above Maasa. “The new one,” he said, grinning.  
  
“Then, Maasa,” said Yooh, “follow him to his pig’s suite. I know you’ll do a great job, if Iori chose you!”  
  
#  
  
The salaryman led Maasa behind a counter, down a hall with many doors. Each door in the hall had a bright red placard on it that framed a two-digit yellow number. They stopped at “08” and the man retrieved a key from his pocket. “This is our room,” he said, unlocking the door. “But I’ll warn you beforehand: it doesn’t contain much in the way of human accommodations.”  
  
The room that opened up before Maasa had only a small, screen-paned window to provide its dim lighting. The bulk of a large, dark pig immediately commanded his attention: it drank water or some kind of slop from a trough. Hay littered the wooden floor, and the smell of shit pervaded the air. It all gave Maasa a pleasant sense of nostalgia. He stepped in ahead of the salaryman.  
  
In the centre of the room was a strange frame of steel bars, apparently adjustable. A load-bearing design.  
  
“You just crawl in under the bars,” the man said.  
  
Maasa began to understand the device’s function. He walked up to it and, lowering to all fours, crawled under its two horizontal bars, which were spaced about two and a half feet apart from each other. They seemed a little high, but a moment later the man adjusted them, one at a time. They clicked into position independent of each other’s height, and in the end the bar over Maasa’s upper back made him have to bend to his elbows, putting his shoulders lower than his hips.  
  
The man hiked up the skirt of Maasa’s latex dress, and got his thumbs between his buttocks, spreading them. He breathed heavily as he examined Maasa’s anus, then, suddenly, he spat on it.  
  
“Here Porker,” he said, moving away. “This sow’s ready for you.”  
  
Maasa waited, hearing nothing to prepare him for when the great bulk of the animal fell over him. Certainly the metal frame was all that kept him from being crushed to death. The pig’s penis found his hole with surprising speed. A little narrower than expected.  
  
But that wasn’t all.  
  
The pig’s forelegs kicked frantically as its cock came further in, spiralling, screwing through Maasa’s rectum. “It’s screwing up my insides!” Maasa cried. “What is... I’ve never felt something like this before...!”  
  
The pig started to fuck him, its cock stretching and gathering like a big rubber spring each pass. The man gave a throaty laugh. “Not many animal-fuckers are familiar with the feeling of pigdick. Consider yourself fortunate.”  
  
Cringing, Maasa tried to bear it. Being fucked by a pig, in his estimation, was not fun. But the damned thing hit his prostate every time it entered, and his own semen drivelled down his thigh. He moaned, as if he could cast out the discomfort through his lips. The pig kept a steady, mindless pace.  
  
Eventually it squealed, and Maasa felt its slime seeping copiously out around its still-thrusting cock. His relief lasted about a minute. “W-why is it still coming...?”  
  
“It’ll do that for about a half hour,” the man said and walked around to Maasa’s front. “Meantime, I’ve got something for your mouth!”  
  
He got on his knees, wobbled, spreading his thighs apart, and showed Maasa his open fly and ugly little mushroom-headed cock poking out. Hideous though it were, Maasa could not hide his appetite for it, for what might come out of it if he let it in his mouth awhile. Opening wide, he stuck out his tongue to meet it.  
  
“Eager as I hoped,” said the man. Then he roughly clutched Maasa’s hair and fucked his welcoming face.  
  
The pig still fucked Maasa, and still came—the semen that escaped around its thrusting flesh-spring having totally drenched his thighs and scrotum—as the salaryman’s dirty little penis slipped between his lips and along the end of his tongue. By the time Maasa tasted ejaculate, sweet and unhesitatingly swallowed, Porker had yet to finish.  
  
Maasa whined, the prick growing soft between his lips.  
  
“Just a few more minutes. Don’t be like that. You love it. You love having a pig ejaculating non-stop inside.”  
  
#  
  
The temperature had climbed to an unbearable high while Maasa was in with the pig. Now he needed to get his latex off, if he didn’t want a heatstroke. He stumbled out of the hall, into the café or diner, whatever it was, and took off his dress as he made his way toward the tables.  
  
Iori was nowhere to be seen—probably working—but Yooh sat on a table, and waved Maasa over. He’d been waiting.  
  
“Hey, you’re out of uniform.”  
  
“It’s hot,” Maasa explained. “Shouldn’t the stockings and gloves be enough?”  
  
“Hmm... the careful balance of nudity and latex is having an effect on me. Fine, I’ll let you work like that. You should drink some water, too. Here.” Yooh took a bottle off the table beside him—his own, presumably—and proffered it to Maasa, who accepted it readily, taking a good swig.  
  
“Thanks.” He placed the bottle back on the table.  
  
“You can thank me by getting back to work! This gentleman here has a dog for you to fuck.” With open palm Yooh indicated the customer, seated at the very table whereon he sat.  
  
A muscular man in a business suit, his skin very dark and shiny. Maasa had never seen a black gaijin before, but he had fucked dogs before; dog penis was one of his favourite things. He got an erection just thinking about it, and the black man looked down at it and grinned. Then he stood up—he wasn’t actually as tall as the fat salaryman, whom Maasa saw leave the place out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Stepping to the side as the black man left his table, Maasa began to follow him. En route to the hall a tired-looking Iori passed him, going to find his next customer. A younger man came out of the hall, his eyes searching for Iori.  
  
Maasa wondered if the black man knew any Japanese, although it mattered nothing to what they were going to do. He unlocked “11” and went in, Maasa following closely. The dog sat in the middle of the room wagging its tail—a big brown shepherd of some kind. The room had taken on the odour of the dog biscuits that filled a round red bowl in the corner, and the floor didn’t have any hay on it at all.  
  
“Move out of the way,” the man said in English, and his dog moved. The space cleared, he lay down on his back, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his trousers down just enough to let out his big gaijin cock which looked like a fat, veined chocolate bar. “Sit on it,” he told Maasa, this time in Japanese.  
  
Acting in expectant haste, Maasa stood with one foot on either side of the man’s legs, his back to his face, and squatted over his dark shimmering erection. It took a few tries to get the tip perpendicular with his anus; eventually he had to reach under his bum and grab the shaft to hold it steady as he lowered himself. At that moment the man’s big hands were on his arse and hips, squeezing.  
  
“Amazing. This country has the best male butts I’ve ever seen.”  
  
He spoke completely in stilted gaijin Japanese now, so Maasa could understand him and somewhat regretted that he could—what do you say to something like that?  
  
His hands moved up to Maasa’s waist, and pulled him back against his breast as he moved inside, thrusting gently, his cock pulling and pushing, this way and that. Maasa thought he was being prepared for the dog.  
  
Suddenly he reached a wet finger down to Maasa’s anus, and squeezed it in beside his cock, stretching. Stretching him out. Then he whistled, and retrieved his finger and his cock.  
  
The next thing Maasa knew, the dog was drooling over his chest, fucking him, while the man squeezed Maasa’s hips apart. It was surprising, but Maasa didn’t need to remind himself dog cock was what he came here for. The animal’s semen ran between his buttocks, kissing his tail bone.  
  
“Are you ready?” the black man said.  
  
For what?  
  
Maasa wasn’t long wondering as human penis met dog penis, and pushed its way painfully in alongside. “Ah!” he cried. “I’m going to rip!”  
  
In response the dark man gave an appropriately dark laugh, then he was all the way in, fucking in time with his dog. The dog’s semen lubricated the way, had made Maasa’s hole so slippery and yielding. He moaned, enjoying the feeling now that the pain had dwindled. His own half-erect cock tossed and turned above the two ploughing his rectum.  
  
After a short while the man pulled out, and the space vacated by his cock was filled by the dog’s huge knot. The pain returned, and the gaijin got out from under Maasa, leaving him lying on the wooden floor with his legs spread and the dog stuck inside him, on top of him, drooling and ejaculating. Standing, the gaijin walked around, and knelt beside Maasa’s head, the big chocolate penis slapping down on his nose.  
  
“You’ve gotta finish what you started.”  
  
Tilting his head back, Maasa opened his mouth and let it in. It poked into his cheek, and he teased with his tongue, trying and failing to curl it around the shaft of the thrusting organ. Pulling out, the man smacked his face with it—his nose, his forehead, his chin—and stroked, pointing it between Maasa’s eyes where his semen drivelled in four spurts.  
  
Maasa rubbed his eyes, and with puckered lips slurped the slime off his hands. The dog whimpered, as if in disappointment that its knot had slipped out of Maasa’s overflowing anus.  
  
He didn’t need to be paid for this. He’d do it for free, so long as his basic survival needs were met. He rolled away from the black man, and got slowly to his feet. There was more work to be done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maasa has worked at the Animal-Fucking Male Maids Café for some days now. New challenges present themselves, but this whore can handle them.

His mobile phone rang, but it wasn’t on him, or even very near him. He hurried after the sound. So rare was it for anyone to call him, it had to be important.

Near the tables he found Yooh holding his phone, looking at it ponderously, as if contemplating whether to answer.

“That’s my phone,” Maasa said. “Can I have it?”

“I suppose.” He handed it over, and went back to wiping the tables. Yooh wore a pink apron and nothing else—Maasa always found ‘Naked Apron’ rather tasteless, but this apron was made of latex. One redeeming quality. He had half an erection by the time he answered his phone.

“Who is it?”

“Hey.” A manly voice, smooth and dark.

“Setsuna? It has been a while since we spoke.”

“It has. Why haven’t I seen you at work? You never even called to say you wouldn’t be showing up, or anything else for that matter.”

It would be insensitive, Maasa thought, to tell the truth: that he’d as good as forgot his old good lover and part-time job amid recent sexual adventures. “I... I’ve been busy. I got transferred.” Yes, blame their employers.

“Where to? I want to see Maasa-kun. I can beg to be transferred to where you work now.”

He might as well share everything. “I’m working with animals now, animals and their owners, in a rural branch called Animal-Fucking Male Maids Café. It’s...” He couldn’t lie. Why should he? “It’s great.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of those places. Sounds exciting. You give me the address, and I’ll plead and suck whomever’s cock I must to come meet you by noon tomorrow.”

Maasa gave him the address. He had got excited himself at the prospect, working with Setsuna, with animals. And they needed the extra pair of hands here. When he hung up he noticed Iori sitting at a table, watching him.

“So who’s coming over?” Iori asked. Yooh came to the table and lifted the front of his apron, shoving his long, fat erection in front of Iori, who leaned down and took it full in his mouth, sucking. Maasa guessed he still wanted a reply.

“Setsuna, from Metis Gretel and KIL:erre, and that session band with me and Rose-sama.”

“Ah,” Yooh sighed, placed a hand on Iori’s head and began to fuck his face. “I know that guy. I thought he was straight as a ruler, despite how hot he was. But straight guys can change. Just look at Iori here, letting me have my way with his mouth. Has he ever told you the story of how he came to work with us?”

“Did it involve a gastro-intestinal parasite?”

“How did you know?! Hah—” Yooh’s cock was making Iori gag now.

“Then Setsuna’s story is similar, at least the interesting part of it.” Maasa looked up at the clock. Ten till ten. They were open from nine o’clock, but patrons were scarce till the lunch hour. “He used to be straight, but the parasite fixed that problem, he said—with the help of some rape and blackmail. I got one, too, but for my part, I’ve never been straight.” Maasa placed his phone on the table and walked around behind Yooh, his heels clicking dully on the hardwood.

He lifted his skirt, the skirt of the same dress he’d been fucking in for days, and let his erect prick kiss Yooh’s bare buttock.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to join us,” Yooh said. “Fuck me dry!”

Maasa tucked his skirt up under his waist band and took hold of Yooh’s narrow hips, pulling. His cock wasn’t as big as Yooh’s, but it still had to be uncomfortable going in dry, no matter how well used the anus. When it sucked up his cock Yooh moaned, and thrust into Iori’s throat; his insides tightened around Maasa, spasming in orgasm. Maasa pressed farther in and began to move his own hips.

Iori loudly swallowed Yooh’s spend, then let his cock slip out and gasped. At that moment the bell above the door rang, indicating the entry of some person—some customer. Maasa thrust deeper, his cock swimming in Yooh’s hot, squishy rectum.

“I-I guess I’ll take care of that,” Iori said.

Yooh protested, “No, let the customer watch us finish. Then he’ll see how good we are!” Saying that, he leaned over, grabbing the edge of the table and lowering to his knees, bringing Maasa down behind him. “Besides, you owe me breakfast.” He pulled at Iori’s legs, which were already off the side of the seat, and parted them. Iori’s cock throbbed through the fly of his tight PVC shorts—he’d been playing with himself as Yooh fucked his face. Now Yooh gobbled up his prize as Maasa fucked his arse.

“Ah,” Iori complained, “but you’ll be getting it from both ends. You glutton...”

There was the sound of footsteps behind Maasa, and the smell of dog. Maasa loved dog. A male voice said, “I’m the first customer of the day, right? Then this... this is my reward!” He unzipped his fly—Maasa could hear that, too, and he wriggled his bottom in anticipation. What else could he do? The customer was entitled. Rough, strong hands squeezed his buttocks. He did not look behind him; he shoved his meat back into Yooh’s depths. Soon the stranger’s bulbous cock-head tickled and prodded his sphincter.

“Your dog will be serviced soon,” Iori assured the customer, Yooh’s pretty head bobbing between his thighs. The customer’s big cock pierced Maasa’s backside—the sweat had made him quite slippery in his entryway. So they fucked in a train, the customer filling Maasa, rubbing against his prostate; and Maasa squelching in Yooh’s sloppy anus, which had become more wet than seemed natural. The anus, contrary to popular belief, did self-lubricate—it did this in order to pass faeces, but it worked almost as well for cocks. The smell of anal mucus intoxicated Maasa, both Yooh’s and his own, and Iori’s as well had to contribute to the flavour of the air.

And the dog. It whimpered from time to time, no doubt excited and anticipating having some place to shove its shiny dick. Maasa wondered what breed it could be, and of a sudden he surged with orgasm. Gripping Yooh tightly, he was generous with his spend. The customer went on fucking him as his sensitive cock slowly grew soft inside Yooh’s anus, which felt tighter, and as if it were sucking him in, trying to detach his cock from his body. Yooh’s mouth, meanwhile, swallowed Iori whole.

Minutes later, the movements of Yooh’s head ceased, the cock puffing out his cheek, and he could be heard to swallow copious semen. He didn’t waste a drop. The customer pulled Maasa out of him then, and himself out of Maasa.

“Hey,” he said, making Maasa face him—a younger working man from his attire, at home in a cubicle, hairline just beginning to recede. “Let me finish in your mouth while my dog makes you his bitch.”

Maasa looked at the dog: a sturdy, ugly breed, large, mostly black, maybe a Rottweiler. Its cock stood unsheathed but for the knot, blood red and purple-veined, utterly enticing. Maasa walked around the customer and got on his knees, preparing. Now there was space enough for him to serve both the man and his dog.

The customer’s penis seemed much fatter around the middle, and near the tuft of black wiry hairs at the base it had a sparse coating of brown-tinted slime from inside Maasa. The smell of faeces and arse, presented as it was on such a dick, could not be resisted, and he took a good whiff of it before opening wide and taking it along his tongue; then he sealed his lips and sucked. The dog mounted his rear without hesitation, and the tip of its smooth, sticky cock poked his arsehole almost immediately. Its paws squeezed his sides, scratching up the latex dress—the position, sucking off a standing customer, wasn’t ideal to avoid such tragedies. He could always buy something better; his generous trust fund had almost become obsolete since he started being paid for his dirty hobbies, but latex might be something worth digging into it for.

The dog had started fucking even before getting inside him, as dogs were wont to do, and now its cock stabbed his prostate every other thrust, and semen seeped out around it, running down Maasa’s perineum and scrotum, some of it down his thighs. He took the customer’s smelly cock in his throat, gagging just a bit. As his throat was fucked he saw out the corner of his eye Iori playing with Yooh’s balls and stroking his half-hard cock. Maasa reached down and stroked his own cock, also getting hard again; the length was slippery with semen, both the dog’s and his own.

Taking Maasa’s head and smashing his face against the hairy pubis, the customer ejaculated deep inside his aching throat. Maasa’s vision blurred with tears; he didn’t need to swallow, but attempting to, on reflex (even stronger than his gag reflex), surely only massaged the man’s penis as it shot spend right down his gullet. A moment later the cock slipped out, already half the size it was going in, and Maasa gasped for breath, supported his torso on his elbows as the man stepped out of the way. Now the dog had him all to itself. Its cock thrust deeper, still drivelling non-stop; rivulets of warm slime crawled down his inner thighs.

Then the knot slipped through, and Maasa braced himself for the scratching he’d experience as the dog tried to turn around and put a leg over him. But it turned out not being that painful or prolonged. Only his throat was still sore; his man-cunt had grown numb to most pain. The dog waited calmly, hardly a whimper coming out of it, as its knot slowly retreated, and it kept on feeding Maasa’s arse.

Breakfast was done, and what a long and filling one it had been!

By the time the dog had finished with Maasa, and was led away on a leash—he wondered vaguely if the customer had paid any money—more people had arrived to enjoy the show. Yooh told them to be seated and order pastries, and told Iori to set the animals up in their apartments. So the day began.

#

Maasa must have looked like a mess—he usually did after the day’s first—but at half past eleven o’clock the café was far too busy for him to take any sort of break. One of the animals caught his eye before Iori led it down the hall: a stocky brown pony. Did they have the equipment for that kind of animal? Maasa really wanted to handle its dick, but right now his duty was to serve people their plates and drinks. He took a tray bearing a small dish of biscuits, and a glass of ice tea, and brought this to the table indicated by the number on the tray, the while feeling the drivel of semen out his arsehole, his thighs slippery with the stuff.

The biscuits and tea went to a very old, but wealthy-looking man, who stared at Maasa beneath his white bushy brows. When Maasa stepped back and bowed, having placed the tray on the table, the old man spoke: “I would like something to sweeten my tea, from inside a cute maid boy’s body.”

Puzzling over this but a moment, Maasa lifted his skirt, checking the old-timer’s reaction.

“Yes,” he grew visibly excited, grinning, shaking. “Can you please do an old man a favour and come in his tea?”

“Of course,” Maasa said, beginning to stroke himself before the patron’s eyes. He fluffed up quickly, as he had something of an exhibitionist streak. The man slid his tea closer to the edge of the table, where Maasa’s spendings could better reach it, and ate his biscuits while he watched Maasa pleasure himself. Climax came in short order, unexpectedly, but most of the semen had got in the drink.

On top of the ice in the brazen pond of tea it floated, white and stringy, its tail thrown over the side of the glass. Before Maasa could leave to serve others, the old man made one more request: “Now can you stir it in, with your penis?”

And as he still had some rigidity in it, he dipped it in the cold liquid, shuddered, and stirred awkwardly, pinching it by the base. He did this till he became soft, and retrieved himself. The semen on the tea now lay in more erratic strings, not unlike a cobweb. The old man nodded gratefully, picking up the glass and quaffing the erotic brew. Then Maasa left the table, certain that others awaited his services too long.

What little food and drink there was had been made days ago and refrigerated. Nobody seemed to mind. When someone had sated himself he was ready to watch or participate as his pet had its way with one of the employés of his choosing. Maasa always wanted to be the one, but so did Iori, and Yooh was fairly assertive over the patrons’ attentions as he went around cleaning tables, serving food, and sweet-talking. Maasa didn’t have the stomach for such niceties. He wanted only to be fucked by animals, but he wouldn’t deny favours to their owners. It was a while of serving and taking away trays in a robotic manner, never meeting anyone as interesting as that geezer, before someone gripped his wrist, rather painfully.

“You,” the man said; he had long black hair, wore sunglasses, bluejeans with black t-shirt, and had been eating cold pop-tarts with his beer. His demeanour was of a bandman, but not the attractive Visual Kei kind. “You’re a cute guy. Wanna see my pythons?”

Maasa had never imagined fucking a snake before. He knew they had double-penises, an arousing bit of knowledge in itself—but weren’t they small? No matter: a customer could not be turned down, so long as his demands were serviceable. “Take me to... your pythons.”

The man grinned, loosened his grip and made to leave his seat. Maasa moved out of the way, and followed him beyond the counter, down the dimly illumined hall. At “09” they stopped and the man inserted the key. The door unlocked, he pushed it open, and motioned for Maasa to go in ahead of him.

Tremulous excitement filled him as he entered, the room nearly dim as the hall, its only lighting through a familiar screen-paned window. The smell here was different, strong and musky but not like that of any farm animal. Yet the floor was covered in straw—and snakes. Large snakes, each about as long as a man was tall, their scales a mottle of green and black or brown. They slithered languidly over one another, glistening, and as Maasa watched them a dread prospect came upon him with strong palpitations: it wasn’t just a part of a reptile’s body that would go inside him.

The long-haired man shut the door, and Maasa turned to see him remove his sunglasses and grin. “Lie down on the floor,” he said. “But watch your step, I don’t want a heel through one of my children.”

Surprisingly, Maasa had never met a person before who seemed overtly insane. This was a first. He listened to the patron, regardless, lying on his back, careful not to hurt any of the animals. There must have been eight of them, give or take, and he felt very fortunate he was not one of those snake-hating ignoramuses who thought them slimy and malevolent. He had held a snake before; they were not slimy at all, but sleek, even sexy. Their little eyes and snouts, moreover, were adorable.

He banished the fond memories. Though snakes were still sleek and cute, the context now, with that paying creep, was quite different. Still, he enjoyed the sensation of the heavy, glossy-scaled bodies sliding over him, as if he were some natural obstacle in their paths. They weren’t very curious. It was almost regrettable, horny as the situation was making him.

“You’re not afraid?” the man asked.

“Of snakes? No, not these ones. Ball pythons, right? I like them.” One passing over Maasa’s groin flattened the tent in his skirt with its weight.

“Oh, that’s kind of a shame. I really get off on the fear. But I planned for this, too. Did you know that snakes are descended from burrowing animals?”

“I-I remember reading that...” His intent was just as Maasa had feared. These animals were thicker than most any cock that had ever been inside him, not to mention the length—but if this guy was determined, he could get one inside Maasa. He breathed nervously. Unmistakably, he heard the cap flip on a plastic bottle of lube.

He felt the man drivelling and rubbing lube on his bare legs, and craning his neck, he saw the same being done to the snake that lay across them, making it slimy as people ignorantly fancied snakes were, or even slimier. Maasa wondered if it had any suspicion of the abuse it was about to endure, being forced up a human anus. The man laid his slimy hands on his legs and spread them apart, letting the snake’s body slip down between them.

“I guess you know what to expect at this point,” the man said. “If you’re not at least cringing by the end of it, I’ll want a refund. And I can tell if you’re faking it, too!”

That was nice to know. Maasa tried not to think of what would come—maybe the surprise of it would help him express the right emotions. The man clapped.

“That’s the signal,” he said. “You know, these are trained snakes.”—Maasa felt the animal’s slimy snout nuzzle his perineum—“When I clap, they’re supposed to look for somewhere to bury their heads and squirm inside. The trick drives women wild—I mean, insane with fright. The screams... I’d be in a lot of legal trouble by now, if I hadn’t recorded every session. I’m glad I found a place like this, where I won’t have to think of resorting to blackmail.”

All the snakes in the room were suddenly nuzzling him, his armpits, everywhere. One got under his latex dress quickly, slithering up toward his neck. The lubed one prodded its snout between his buttocks, and found his arsehole without delay. It began to enter him, too easily. Its thick slimy body stretched his anus, forced itself into his rectum. Maasa could not hold back a moan, and this more of fear than pleasure: he could see its body disappearing into him; he could feel its weight in his gut. It did not stop at his rectum.

Placing a palm on his belly instinctively, he felt it squirm inside him, erratically, as though it were trying to find room to breath. How much of it had got inside him now? Would it die in his intestine? “Please,” Maasa begged, his heart about to explode. Craning his neck he saw what of the animal remained outside him: about two feet of tail. “Please take it out, I can’t...”

“You can’t what? You can’t serve your customer?” The man stood now with his fly undone, huge fleshy dick in hand. He was masturbating to this!

“S-sorry, but I’m scared—it feels...”

“It feels great, right? I bet a penis can’t compare to a snake. What a filthy whore you are. But you’ve been good so far. Most whores are screaming and thrashing and hurting my snakes by this point.” He walked up beside Maasa’s head, stroking his dick above his face. Then he knelt. “You earned this, slut-boy.”

There was a change in the air. Maasa felt suddenly grateful and covetous, even glad to have a python coiling up inside his bowels, with a handsome human penis so close to his mouth. The name-calling might have helped, too—he was into that. Ah, a slutty maid-boy he was, though he suspected he really had a few years on this patron. He reached out his tongue toward the organ as he writhed from the waist down, feeling heavy and very aroused. His dress felt tight; he was afraid to lay hand on his abdomen again.

“So eager!” the man said. “You don’t have to work so hard—just keep on squirming and whimpering.” He clutched some of Maasa’s hair, and spread his knees, guiding his cock into the receptive mouth. When he tickled Maasa’s uvula, he started to force his head to and fro, fucking his throat. Tears, but no gagging this time—that came and went; there would be no good distraction from his horrible burden. He had stopped feeling movement in his anus, which meant either that the poor snake had suffocated to death, or it had got its whole body inside him. Or both.

The man patted Maasa’s swollen belly while fucking his throat. “Ah, you’re about ready to give birth, I can feel it.” His hand moved down, under Maasa’s skirt, fingers wrapping around his cock. “I’m really starting to prefer males. They’re more open-minded, and we have more in common. And there’s no shortage of cross-dressing bitches like you to have fun with.” He stroked Maasa’s throbbing erection.

Without removing his hand from Maasa’s cock, he retrieved his own, trailing saliva. “I refuse to have the climax I paid for inside your throat, however pretty it may be,” he said. “Not during our first time together, anyway.” On his knees he walked toward Maasa’s feet, stepping over one of his spread legs and turning. “Mm, yes, something special for the first time. I’m sure you’ve had enough crazy sex to expect nothing less, right? A male whore like you...”

Continued whimpering breaths were all the answer he could give. The man stopped manually stimulating Maasa and clapped, twice in quick succession, and suddenly his anus was alive with activity, squirming, sliding; the python, somehow still alive—perhaps its snout had been poking out to breathe—began to escape him.

But, laying its head beside his thigh, it stopped, and the man gripped his thighs and pulled him toward him, and pushed against his perineum and the snake’s body with his cock.

He would slip in beside.

“N-no, please,” Maasa complained, too softly to feel the least bit genuine. He didn’t have the strength to make a good case against what was about to happen. “I’ll—I’ll rip...” What was that? He sounded like he wanted it. The man laughed at him, or at the situation. For the first time today Maasa’s anus really hurt; the cock brute-forced its way inside him, millimetre by millimetre, crushed between the reptile’s body and Maasa’s weak, abused anal wall, but still going.

“Hahaha, this... I’ve never done this before. I thought I might need more lube, but you’re starting to bleed—that should work!”

“You’re insane!” Maasa cried, and this came out more loudly than he meant it to. The man only laughed more, even giggled; he squeezed Maasa’s thighs tighter, not at all deterred. Maasa gasped, and the man started to fuck, only half way in. “It hurts...” It really did. The snake squirmed inside him—maybe it was in pain, too, but it could not leave. Cringing and groaning, he tried to bear it. Pain was temporary; he would recover from this, and get back to work serving more pleasant people.

The man couldn’t quite get balls-deep because of the snake’s obstruction, but he didn’t give up his attempts, and soon after the pain of torn haemorrhoids numbed to an almost pleasant sting for Maasa, he thrust hard and deep, and slowly withdrew, having ejaculated inside.

Maasa could not speak now; he could hardly breathe, and merely twitched as the python uncoiled inside him, slipping out his slimy, bloody arsehole. The man stood over him, looking down, a trail of glistening semen hanging from his flaccid penis.

“Guess I got my money’s worth, but I didn’t get to try everything I wanted to try. Maybe next time. Can I make a reservation?” He chuckled through his nose, opening the door to the hallway. “I’ll ask your manager.”

He left Maasa lying in the half-dark. The pythons still slithered over his limbs, nudged him here and there. Would their owner come back for them? He tried to stand up, but found his legs weak and fell on his butt, which was sore and cold. He reached back and felt it with his fingers.

At least he hadn’t prolapsed. But his sphincter was puffy and tender, probably not cute to look at. It would get better. Maasa was a firm proponent of the platitude: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

The man came back in the room to find him still sitting, as if in a daze, though thoughts raced—little, mostly irrelevant ones. He looked up only briefly, then down, watching the snakes, how they glistened and slid and rolled off one another and his legs. The man had his ear, and that was all.

“Looks like there’s some policy against keeping animals on the premises while the owner’s away. Shame, but I guess such a skeleton crew couldn’t really take care of them while serving other customers. I’ll have your co-worker help me return the snakes to my truck. Get out, unless you’ll be helping, too.”

Maasa staggered to his feet, his lower body having had some time to recover. Clumsily, he made his way out past the man, past Iori. He hoped Yooh wasn’t too busy right now; he needed to sit and have a drink served to _him._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day goes on. Good things and bad things happen, strange things.

In the end, Yooh got to go with the pony. Maasa wanted to watch, but he had to serve teacakes once he’d recovered from the snake-man, then he had to fuck two more dogs, and a monkey’s owner while the monkey climbed and groped and bit him. It wasn’t his best day.

When he met Yooh out by the tables, he saw his chance and asked: “What was the pony like?”

Yooh set down a tray for a customer and turned to him. “The penis was huge! Oh, I wish you could have watched.”

“Me too. Did it... did the pony fuck you with its huge dick?”

“It did.”

“B-but isn’t that dangerous?”

“If you don’t have the right set-up it is. This isn’t the first time I had to make arrangements for an animal like that. You have to protect yourself from the animal’s weight and strength, or you might be severely injured, even die.”

“How? How were the arrangements?” Maasa felt rude the way he pressed the matter, but he was in a hurry. There were customers waiting. Surely Yooh understood: his natural manner of speaking seemed hurried.

“I was strapped to the animal’s underside, safe from its hooves, safe from having my internal organs crushed by its thrusts. Ah, it was great fun. I’m sure you’ll get your chance one of these days.”

Maasa pictured the scenario and his cock throbbed hard. He knew he’d get his chance, if he only kept working at this wondrous place. “Thanks,” he said. It was late in the afternoon; people with normal jobs were finishing those for the day, and rushing in, filling up the place. The Animal-Fucking Male Maids Café closed an hour before midnight. There remained much work to do.

And there was a surprise when Maasa went to tend the new patrons: a lone man with black, straight, very long and layered hair, highlighted blue with the back tied up in a high, teased bunch; he sat at a table, watching Maasa. He wore less makeup than usual, almost as little as a girl, with pink lips instead of the black everyone had grown used to; but that big chin, that smirk, and those eyes emanating a sense of sinister superiority, were unmistakable. Setsuna had arrived early.

Maasa came to his table, beckoned by his stare. Close up, he could see Setsuna’s attire: a kind of white, latex minidress with two-tiered, pleated skirt, long sleeves and high, zipped collar above a circular opening between his nipples and collar bone. He wore no stockings, but a pair of black PVC ankle boots with platforms and chunky high heels.

“You like?” Setsuna enquired, rubbing his latex-coated abdomen.

“What kind of question is that?” Maasa said. “You know I love latex, and that design is really...”

“Slutty?”

“That’s one word for it. Hmm.” Maasa leaned toward him, over his table. “Are you here today as a customer, or a job applicant?”

“Can’t I be both? I brought some money, and these fancy harlots’ clothes made my dick hard.”

“Did you bring a pet? We don’t really have normal, cock-sucking services.” But remembering that morning, Maasa decided some things were worth breaking the rules for. “But the customers do love to watch us go at it while they enjoy their appetisers. Can you leave your seat? We can do it over there.”

“With everyone watching?” Setsuna’s tone was one of mock surprise. “It’s so embarrassing, I don’t know if I... ah, let’s do it, give them a show.” He motioned to get up and Maasa moved out of the way, and waited on his knees nearby. Soon he found himself faced with a pair of pale thighs overhung by short latex pleats, sticking out at the front. Maasa lifted Setsuna’s skirt, revealing a healthy erection, markedly darker in skin tone than his thighs.

“As beautiful as I remember it!” Maasa remarked. He opened his mouth and tasted the tip—a savoury flavour—and pushed it about with his tongue as he licked down the shaft, enjoying the feeling of soft pulsations till he mouthed the balls at the bottom.

“And you haven’t lost your touch,” said Setsuna, patting Maasa’s head. “Make me come quick, though; I wanna start working at this place with a blank slate of arousal. Ah, I can smell the animals!” His cock twitched. Maasa moved his head back and kissed the tip of the organ and drew it in along his tongue. With a sudden thrust Setsuna was in his throat, and Maasa’s eyes watered—he thought he’d spent all his tears for the day.

People rose from their seats to watch as Maasa was throat-fucked. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the sensation. Setsuna’s cock was not that thick, but the way it stabbed caused some discomfort, even after all Maasa had endured. His uvula was being punched and rubbed, and he gagged for the first time in a while.

“Vomit on my cock,” Setsuna demanded. “Why aren’t you vomiting?”

Maasa had been intentionally subduing his reflex as best he could, but no more—if it was what he wanted...

He made a most unladylike sound as his stomach contents welled up to splash Setsuna’s cock, his balls and thighs. Very relieved it made him feel, to let it all out, though the smell was worse than shit, and he wanted to vomit more. That seemed to be all of it. Setsuna moaned, and fucked Maasa’s face all the quicker, forcing some of the puke back down his throat before ejaculating three forceful jets of semen, the last on Maasa’s cheek.

“I always wanted to make someone vomit with my cock,” Setsuna said. “Wasn’t that fun? Now clean me so I can get to work. Oh, I hope I don’t get too horny again.”

“Clean you? You... you want me to eat my vomit?”

“What’s wrong?”

Maasa hated that acidic smell, and the consistency of the half-digested soup. It would be a new low for him. “N-nothing,” he said. He would do it for one of his favourite people. With his tongue he scooped some off Setsuna’s thigh and swallowed it; the sourness was mitigated by its familiarity, and there really wasn’t that much to clean, so long as he didn’t have to clean the floor. He captured the flaccid organ in his mouth and sucked his vomit off, making Setsuna flinch.

Finishing the thighs, Maasa noted most patrons had lost interest in the show and sat back down. Not every voyeur was gifted with a strong stomach, alas. “I’m filthy,” Maasa said.

Setsuna bent down and licked his face, the semen from his cheek and the vomit from his chin. “Never think you’re alone.” He helped Maasa to his feet. “Who do I talk to for a job here?”

“Me,” said Yooh and clapped, grinning. His proximity was surprising. “But you’ve got it. Transfers are easy, aren’t they?”

“I wanna start right now!”

“Just go to one of the seated customers and be nice, see if he’ll take you to his pet.”

Setsuna left them for the nearest patron, and started chatting him up: “You got an animal you want me to fuck? I can do it both ways, but my anus is really hungry.”

The portly bespectacled man with a comb-over and business-casual attire scowled. Then taking a deep breath and stiffening his back, he said, “Y-you want me to teach you some manners, bitch?”

“Oh, please do! It’s a big dog, right? That’d be appropriate for a foul-mouthed bitch such as myself.”

The customer stood and Setsuna let him out of his seat, and followed him to the hallway. From behind, Yooh’s hand fell on Maasa’s shoulder. “You’ve slacked off long enough,” he said.

Maasa nodded with a grunt, and went to tend a patron who waited for his tray to be cleared, and something more. He was a young gentleman in a very old-fashioned kind of suit, blood-red with white ruffles, like something Rose-sama would wear. But his head was all wrong, with a full brown beard and close-cropped hair. He seemed gaijin. Arriving at his table, Maasa picked up the tray, which had on it but an empty glass.

“I spy a fine boy-maiden,” said the man in affected Japanese. “What are you called?”

“Maasa.” He lowered the tray back down. “Would you like me to service an animal you brought?”

“But of course!” The man stood. “It’s the perfect opportunity. Master will be pleased.”

“M-master?”

“Did I say that? An old habit, pay it no mind! Now come.”

Maasa followed the refined, foreign patron to the hallway. He never felt any real attraction to a foreigner before—he couldn’t imagine it, certainly one with a beard! And yet, something deep within compelled him, a motive coaxed by the gentleman’s demeanour. They stopped at “11” and he unlocked it and went in first, seeming eager. The eagerness was contagious.

Covers were drawn over the room’s one window, leaving six white candles on a pair of silver stands to provide all illumination. They abutted something Maasa could not at first believe. No known animal on dry land exhibited anything near such an appearance: it seemed to stand on six inhuman limbs, skinless; and the main body was a mass of something that looked very much like a giant, beating human heart. From some secret place at the base of its “body,” just above the set of nightmarish legs, it radiated tendrils too many to count, each the breadth and texture of a sausage, and many, many times longer.

“What is this thing?!” Maasa demanded, the spell momentarily broken.

“Please, do not call him a thing,” the gentleman cooed. “He was once a man, like you or, more appropriately, I. Now he is what you might call a Level Eighteen Vampire, and your manager has assured me such a magnificent creature as he could get service here.”

The tendrils undulated, the tips of the foremost patting the floor, as if to say, “hither.” They were not all the same at the tip: some ended in what looked like penises, drivelling the whitish stuff Maasa craved; others were more like mouths, with salivating tongues. He thought he saw sharp teeth, and shuddered, but managed to compose himself enough to continue his query. “You said... vampire? I thought vampires were beautiful, and looked like humans—like Rose-sama, I think he’s a vampire. But...”

“Ah, I understand perfectly. You’ve never seen such an advanced vampire before. Probably never even conceived of what may come, how a puny humanoid vampire might change, if he but give himself over to his deepest hungers for enough centuries. Now you see, and you will provide the service we paid for, no?”

Yooh had approved this thing? Iori had seen it, and packed it into this room? He found it hard to believe. Somehow, he hadn’t seen it himself... and though the monstrous thing repulsed him, his cock throbbed, almost hurt from engorgement. He thought of turning and running, of asking the others about it, seeing if everything added up where he didn’t think it possible—but his impulses didn’t agree with his decisions, and he found he had one of the penis-like tendrils gripped right in his hand, its end coiling about and gripping his arm, drawing him closer.

Maybe it would be fun, and something to tell about—more interesting than horses and harnesses. He opened his mouth as one of the tendrils drew near his face; he let it on his tongue, tried to suck on it, but it was difficult, as it wouldn’t stop entering. He swallowed it, and it poured something down his gullet, and then he didn’t care so much that he couldn’t breathe until it withdrew, drivelling the semen-like discharge all over his face. It was semen, but there was more to it, something mixed with it that made him unable to think outside of anticipating the beast’s next intrusion.

He moaned happily when something pressed for entry in his anus, and others of its kind wrapped his limbs and lifted him off the floor, pulling him close to the penetrating vibration of a giant beating heart. He was being fucked now; the tendril seemed to aim directly for his prostate, massaging it viciously as it writhed inside. The foreign gentleman had undone his fly and taken his cock out—it looked strange, pallid yet fat—and stepped close to Maasa, stroking himself as he watched the violation.

There entered a second tendril, twisting together with the first. It should have hurt, that sudden double penetration, but Maasa’s anus had been through a lot today, he vaguely figured. The gentleman lifted Maasa’s skirt and tucked it up, so now Maasa could see his red, throbbing penis, twitching and drivelling pre-come. It had never been this big before.

One of the mouthed tendrils rose near it, opening, touching his cock with its long tongue, displaying its very sharp teeth. It was frightening, to have something like that in such a juxtaposition to his cock, but the fright only multiplied his pleasure; he wanted it to bite him there. It wasn’t slow to gobble him up, and begin fellating him—it was better than he at this, he thought; he didn’t even feel its fangs for a while.

But when he did he cried. They pierced him around the middle of his shaft, then the vampire-tendril’s lips slid to the base, and sucked ferociously. For all his cries, it seemed nobody heard him. It didn’t help that he couldn’t articulate a word, and the cries sounded more of pleasure than anything else. Indeed, having his blood sucked through his cock was extremely pleasurable. Even when he began to feel light-headed, and lose consciousness, it was the best he ever felt.

But before he passed out, he thought he saw Yooh enter the room. He thought he saw Yooh draw a wakizashi and hold it to a gentleman’s throat. What a strange dream....

#

He woke up in a hospital bed, his cock sore. He was hooked up to an IV, and a young man in doctors’ attire leaned over him and turned away, sighing. “You homos need to cut down on such risky activity. You know how close you came to permanent brain damage?”

“It’s not our fault,” Yooh said. He stood near; the sight of him pleased Maasa greatly. “I didn’t suspect it was anything other than a weird dog till I heard things that weren’t at all like sex with a dog.”

“Well now you know to be on the lookout. Vampires can shapeshift, especially the bad ones.” The doctor said it so matter-of-factly, as though it were something he had experienced before.

“How do you screen for something like that? Hey, let’s exchange mobile numbers; I’ll text you about it later.”

The doctor smirked at Yooh, and took out his phone, and they exchanged numbers without a word.

“Great,” Yooh said, turning to Maasa. “Now how do you feel? Think you can get back to work soon? We won’t allow any more vampires.”

Maasa just laughed.

He would get back to fucking animals as soon as he could walk.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is encouraged.


End file.
